Up to this juncture, the ink has been
My number one hiding spot.
Previously, I hid behind
Smoking mirrors a lot.
But, that was back then…
Pryor, before Richard
I hid behind smoking mirrors
But, I’ve stopped now
Since… They evaporated.
I also stopped because
I got diagnosed with second-hand chain-smoking.
The ink that was in the pen
That was in my hand was so hot,
The chains that bound me
Began smoking.
The other day
It all came together
When I saw Two Chain
In the video… Smoking
While on the smoking note,
I heard ’em say
‘Where there’s smoke there’s fire’
Guess they’ve never encountered incense.
I live with “Gass-musketeers”,
They burn it profusely,
I asphyxiate,
Then I provoke insolence.
It’s things like these
That makes me wanna keep
Everyone at a distance
And I’m a natural recluse,
All I need to do
Is to be me to be at a distance
And at this juncture,
There’s not much to do anyway,
So I just sit in a daze.
Sometimes, I’m thoroughly surprised
If I manage to imagine the days
When there are no more smoking mirrors,
And there’s no more smoke from incense
And no more sunken heart
‘Cause I’m tall as fuck
And reaching down is such a distance,
And no more melancholic spirit
Because now, those examples
Use me as an instance,
And no more reminding people
‘Cause I just hate it
When I use persistence.
I pledge allegiance to the pen.
